


What We Shouldn't Want

by frau_kali



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blow Jobs, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, Fantasizing, First Time, Flint may have a bit of one, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Touch-Starved, Voyeurism, or a hint of it, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frau_kali/pseuds/frau_kali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just the feel of this, he tells himself, he just needs that, a distraction from the constant pain in his leg. Just a respite.</p><p>It lasts only seconds before his mind predictably begins to conjure scenarios for him, all of them strikingly similar in one way or another because they all feature one James Flint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Shouldn't Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ember_firedrake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/gifts).



> Uuh, whoops my hand slipped? xD Yeah, it sure has been a while, hasn't it? I can't believe I actually started something and finished it, it's been ages since I have done that. Predictably, of course, it is porn. Almost 3k of smut. And it's entirely Ashley's fault. 
> 
> We can consider this fic a fill for [this beautiful headcanon/prompt](http://hawkbi-pierce.tumblr.com/post/149350131032/has-anyone-written-silverflint-post-s3-fic-where) that she posted to Tumblr, along with some stuff from [this follow up](http://hawkbi-pierce.tumblr.com/post/149373658992/screams-silver-biting-down-on-his-lip-to-muffle) ask response throw in. I saw it this morning and basically spent the remainder of the day working on this.
> 
> So, thank you, Ashley, for inspiring me to finish my first fic since before season 3 finished airing. I hope you and everyone here enjoys it! This fandom is amazing and I love you all!
> 
> As always, this is unbeta'd, so apologies for any typos. I did proof read multiple times, but I was also eager to get this out. I'll happily fix any mistakes pointed out to me.

What the fuck is he thinking, doing this _here_? And in Flint's _chair_ , no less?

Oh, true, the captain’s cabin is the most private place on the ship, with the ability to bolt the door--he had done that, hadn't he? Yes, he was certain he had--and thus the best place for a little pleasure. But, hindsight being what it is, John Silver knows now that his reasoning has utterly betrayed him, that he unconsciously chose this room for a reason he is loathe to acknowledge but cannot keep ignoring.

He sits here, his blue coat off and his pants open, one hand working over his hardening cock, alternating between slow and fast, and tries to think of nothing and no one. Just the feel of this, he tells himself, he just needs that, a distraction from the constant pain in his leg. Just a respite.

It lasts only seconds before his mind predictably begins to conjure scenarios for him, all of them strikingly similar in one way or another because they all feature one James Flint.

Flint, who had told him only a few weeks ago that he'd loved another man. Silver has been unable to get his mind off that for very long since then, unable to ignore how much he wants his captain now that they’ve grown so close. Silver had always wanted him, actually, but it was easy for him to ignore such things, right up until he realized he harbours actual _feelings_ and affections for him, finding himself enjoying Flint’s company, his brilliance, the nature of their partnership.

And now Silver can't _stop_ thinking about his desire, no matter how hard he tries, Flint always invades his mind when he does this. Being in the goddamn _captain's cabin_ , surrounded by reminders of the man, is no help at all.

His cock is leaking now, and he gathers the precome on his fingertips, using it to ease the way as he strokes from root to tip. His gaze lands on Flint's bookshelf, mind supplying him with filthy fantasies of the two of them rutting against each other, Flint pinning Silver there as he kisses and bites along his neck. Silver imagines the scrape of Flint’s beard against his skin and shudders at the thought of it, biting back a low moan.

Maybe Flint will kiss him, too, just pull him forward and join their lips roughly, slide their tongues against each other. Silver has never put much stock in kissing before, never gotten much out of it, so he finds he is surprised that he wants it from Flint. Then again--

Fuck. He should hurry, he should just hurry and finish himself off. Flint could come any second-- Silver curses his brain for where _that_ takes him, resolved not to think of how Flint’s face looks when he is completely undone.

He tries once more to blank his mind, but instead he only imagines Flint entering the cabin to find him here. He pictures that scowl turning to one of those smirks that make Silver’s stomach twist, before he stalks straight over, palming himself as he does. Flint will make short work of his trousers, then pull out his own cock. It’s thick, long, and beautiful. Silver had seen it once or twice when he'd shared the Man o’ War's cabin with Flint, but now he imagines how pretty it will look when it's hard.

“Fuck!” he breathes, stopping himself just in time from uttering _Flint_ instead. Or _captain_.

Silver’s wrist twists and he closes his eyes, ostensibly to block out all his surroundings, but by now he knows it's too late. In his mind's eye he can imagine Flint leaning in, cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs, before Silver seeks it out and wraps his lips around it, moaning at the taste of warm flesh and precome. He can feel his own cock throb under his fingertips as he thinks of sucking Flint off, of making him say _please_ and curse until Silver lets him come.

He can imagine Flint to be rough and hard, utterly dominating, but Silver will give just as good as he is given. Flint does nothing halfway, so this would be no different, and John arches into his hand at the thought of that, of having Captain Flint concentrate entirely on pleasing him.

Breathing in deeply, he speeds up, thumb pressing at and circling the tip at every opportunity. Outside he can hear footsteps on the deck above him, opening his eyes as he pauses to listen to the the sound of DeGroot giving orders to the men in the rigging. For just a moment he is pulled from his bubble, knowing he cannot linger too long here. Flint could come back from the hold any moment and find his door locked (it was locked, it was, it was, he hadn't forgotten…)

But his cock is still hard, aching for release, and he will not deny himself now that he's come this far. This is an indulgence rarely permitted--or needed, until recently--so he won't stop now.

He closes his eyes again, finding himself thinking of Flint's hand in place of his own. John rather likes Flint's hands, he's found his gaze lingering on them more than usual these days. He likes the rings in particular, too, and he doesn’t have to imagine the feel of warm metal against his cock because he has a few of his own.

He can just picture Flint leaning over him, hand around his cock. He tries to imagine the callouses and scrapes of the man's fingers, how they'll feel against his slick shaft, especially when John can no longer help himself and begins to fuck into Flint's fist. He won't be quiet either, he knows he won't, knows he'll say filthy things while Flint gives him this.

John lets out a soft groan now, his mind stuck on that image, something falling from his lips that may have been _captain_ , as he pushes up into his hand and wishes it were Flint’s instead.

Suddenly there is soft gasp, and John stills, opening his eyes.

Flint is standing _right here_ , frozen in place halfway between the closed cabin door and the desk. He's staring at Silver, his face red and his hard cock tenting the front of his trousers. Alright, so Silver _hadn’t_ actually bolted the door then. And Flint could be quite silent when he wants to be.

Silver can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as well, but he does not look away.

Neither does Flint, a mixture of emotions all there on his face, so open - Shame (not at all surprising), surprise, irritation (at himself, Silver hopes, but knows better), indecision, and most important of all, hunger.

Silver can tell Flint is wrestling with those last two, probably trying to decide if he should apologize--ha! Silver had invaded Flint's private space, he ought to be the one apologizing-- and leave him to it, or if he should stay.

Silver suddenly finds dread pulling at him - He doesn't want Flint to go. If he does, it could close the door on this, give them both a reason to forget it ever happened. He had told himself Flint wouldn’t want to be with him, for any number of reasons - their sordid history, lack of trust, his leg, the fact that Flint had only just come to see Silver as a partner. And yet, evidently, he is wrong, because it is plain how Flint wants him.

Still, Silver knows he shouldn't want this, he's known that for days now. Yet he also still wants to be quartermaster to this crew over having his gold--all for the irrational, stupid validation that he now craves, along with a partnership with the man standing before him--so he it wouldn't be the first time. It's probably the pleasure haze talking. The intensity of Flint's gaze has done nothing but keep his cock hard and throbbing.

So he returns that gaze, holds onto it, and let's his hand continue to move. He allows himself to gasp softly as he strokes along his length, licking at his suddenly dry lips.

Flint doesn't move, something in his expression shifting so his hunger is more paramount now. Perhaps he, too, is taking note of how his desire is returned. His fingers twitch at his side, and Silver once more wants those fingers around his cock. Fuck, they would feel so _good_ , he just knows Flint will be talented, that he'll know how to do it just right.

Completely shameless now, Silver brings his other hand up to his lips and licks over it. He sucks his fingers into his mouth next, soaking them with spit and working them as if they were something thicker and harder.

Flint actually _groans_ at the sight. Silver allows himself a smirk after he is done with his hand. He lets his slick fingers move to his balls, pulling and stroking over them while his other hand works at the tip of his cock.

“ _Captain_ ,” he groans softly as he takes hold of his cock with his wet hand now, stroking up the length of the shaft. 

“Fuck, look at you… I’ve wanted….” Flint whispers, his breath hitching, lips parted and green eyes blown black. He finally moves, taking a small step forward, one hand coming to his groin to palm at his hard and probably aching cock through his pants.

“Yes,” Silver moans low at the sight, the word also a reaction to the other man’s admission. He wants to ask Flint to take himself out, to return the favour, to let Silver finally see the hard cock that has been the subject of his fantasies for weeks now. And normally he would, but this is shaky ground, Flint seems so tentative, maybe even shy.

So instead he keeps toying with his cock, giving his captain a show. He strokes over the shaft, the fingers of his other hand touching and pressing at the head, sliding along the slit. Christ, he wants to stroke Flint's cock instead, he wants to so fucking badly.

But he says nothing, instead merely inviting Flint closer with his eyes, noting how Flint's gaze often lingers on his cock and how utterly hungry he looks now.

This invitation is taken a moment later, Flint giving his cock one last squeeze through the fabric before he walks straight over, carefully avoiding Silver’s iron leg where it is stretched out on the floor, still attached to Silver's stump. It hurts less without all the weight on it, the pain only a dull quiet thing now, with so much pleasure, and the thrill of Flint watching, to distract him.

He doesn't get a chance to marvel at the care Flint has just shown him, as he had in the past, or the warmth he feels at it, different than the raw physical _need_ he has, though. Because Flint promptly drops right to his knees before him, his face mere inches from Silver's cock.

 _Oh_.

Silver’s breath catches in his throat, his hand gripping at the base of his cock to keep himself from coming right then and there. Flint is back to palming himself through his pants now, his eyes fixed on Silver's cock as he licks his lips, looking like a man starved. Silver's brain scrambles to catch up to this unexpected turn of events, to the way Flint so very obviously wants something Silver did not expect him to, not this much.

And yet here is the fearsome Captain Flint, down on his knees for his quartermaster, looking like he wants nothing more than to lick over the wet, leaking tip of the hard cock so close to his face, to take it in his mouth and sate a decade long thirst.

“Oh,” Silver utters his surprise aloud this time, gasping again. He pulls away one hand so he can let the other tug quickly at his shaft. He is teetering on the brink, all from the way Flint looks right now--open, vulnerable, _submissive_ \--and he wants to do is tell Flint he can do it, tell him to suck his cock. From how hungry he looks, Silver can just _imagine_ how fucking good at it he'll be, how Flint probably loves to have a cock in his mouth.

 _Oh, fuck_! He is there, just a little more-- “Captain,” _James!_ “I'm--”

“Go on,” Flint whispers, swallowing before he adds, softly: “please.” Silver moans at how needy he looks then, how beautifully he says _please_. Flint raises his hands suddenly, letting them travel up the inside of Silver's thighs, his breath hitching as he does it. He tilts his head up, eyes closing.

A shudder slides through Silver at that, this first touch the final thing that finally sends him off the edge and into oblivion.

He has to put a hand over his mouth to muffle his shout as he comes hard across Flint's face, into his mouth, watching him receive Silver's orgasm like it's something he craves.

When it's over, Silver breathes deeply, staring down at Flint, watching him swallow and lick his lips. Ropes of come cover his cheeks, there’s even a little in his beard, and it is so fucking beautiful.

“Jesus, you look…” Silver whispers, unable to choose a word he finds suitable, at least one he feels safe uttering aloud, unsure of what this thing is between them now.

He cannot keep himself from touching, though, now that Flint has removed that barrier. He brings one hand down to Flint’s neck, the other to his face. And like the first time, when he’d initiated the touch, Flint’s reaction is visible. He draws in a sharp breath, one hand sliding up to cup John’s face. It’s John’s turn to sigh breath out softly at that, feeling the callouses on Flint’s fingers against his skin, the warmth of his hand. 

From the way he looks, how he reacts, it’s clear to John how how touch-starved Flint is, how much he has missed this kind of intimacy. There is such wonder in his eyes, perhaps he has forgotten what this is like.

Determined to give him more, always more, Silver gathers the come from Flint's creeks on his fingertips before moving them to his captain's mouth. Flint takes them in eagerly, licking up every last drop, sucking at the tips of them.

“Fuck,” Silver breathes. He watches, enthralled, as he gathers the come from Flint’s other cheek and repeats the action, his captain licking at his fingers with a soft, pleased hum. “Next time--” he pauses, then decides he won't think of the implications of that now, not in this state. “Next time, I want you to suck my cock. I could see how badly you wanted to.”

Flint only lets out a soft moan around John's fingers at the request, the hand he has on John’s thigh dropping down to palm at his cock through his pants again.

Oh… Oh, he still hasn't…

 _Well_ , now.

“Stop,” Silver says then, and the way Flint snaps to obey him has his spent cock twitching in interest. _Jesus_ , this just kept getting more and more perfect. “Much as I'd enjoy watching you get yourself off from on your knees like that, I’d rather be the one touching you.”

Flint swallows at that, still far more silent than John thought he'd be, but then they both had been for the past little while. This all feels stolen, like they both exist in a still-tentative place solely for them now, a place freer than the real world. John is in no hurry to leave it, at least not before he's made Flint come.

“Come here,” he says, again shuddering as Flint immediately obeys, starting to get to his feet, his hand dropping to John’s neck now like he never wants to stop touching him. And that alone reminds John of something else he wants.

Before Flint can stand fully, John grabs both side of his face and pulls him into a kiss. At first he seems surprised, enough that John wonders if he has crossed another unnamed boundary without permission, but then Flint lets out a soft gasp between their mouths before he opens himself up for John. He returns the kiss with the same hunger he’s displayed constantly up until now, kissing his quartermaster like he wants to devour him, tongue pushing into Silver’s mouth in exactly the way Silver imagined.

They both groan softly into it, the meeting of their mouths turning more heated the longer it goes on. Silver wonders now if he could just keep kissing Flint, keep being the subject of such need, until he is hard again and Flint can suck his cock. No one kisses the way James Flint does, that is for certain. No one else has had his cock wanting to get hard again from nothing more than a brush of lips and a clash of tongues.

Flint, however, has still not come, and Silver doesn’t wish to be cruel. So he breaks the kiss, reluctantly, looking into Flint’s eyes as they both breath hard into each other’s mouths.

And then he has to stop for just a moment, stop and admire just how Flint _looks_ now: Debauched, eyes dark, the remnants of Silver's come still drying on his face, flecks of it in his beard. Christ, he is _beautiful_ like this, all soft and wanting, completely at John's mercy should John choose.

Well. Perhaps next time.

“Here, stand against the desk. I want to take care of you,” Silver says, when he is sure his voice will be steady. Flint nods, breath catching before he stands up fully. He leans against the desk, just as ordered, watching John pulling open his trousers before reaching a hand inside.

Flint’s cock is just as pretty as Silver imagined it to be, hard and flushed and leaking. He lets himself take a moment to appreciate the length and girth of it, drawing his hand up and down the shaft slowly. 

“Please,” Flint groans. Again Silver feels heat rushing to his cock, but it’s still too soon for him to get hard again. Dear god, though, seeing Flint like this is utterly enthralling.

“You are so fucking perfect, captain,” Silver says, finally obliging him. He gives the cock in his hand a squeeze, then begins to stroke quickly. “So good like this.”

Flint moans, the loudest he had so far--still quiet, but Silver takes it as a victory nonetheless--and begins shoving his hips forward into Silver’s hand. John makes a mental note of the reaction, to test later if it was to his words, his praise, or his actions, or both.

He alternates between watching Flint's face, seeing his need and desperation, and his hand gliding over Flint's cock, now slick with precome. He could so easily lean over to have a taste, to lick at the leaking tip and enjoy whatever new sounds he can pull from Flint's lips. And perhaps he would, maybe, except that Flint hadn't and so it seems unfair. After all, Silver had enjoyed the act some in the past, but he's never been fucking _starved_ for it the way Flint is.

“Next time,” Silver says softly, watching the wet tip of Flint's cock move in and out of his hand as he strokes while Flint keeps thrusting forward, “I'm going to suck your cock, too.”

Flint gasps at that. “You can have it now,” he says, softly, almost tentatively, “if you want it.”

John could hear the undercurrent of _need_ in his voice, too. Jesus Christ, had he not gone to anyone to see to his needs for _ten years_? Or does he merely prefer the company of men and denied himself that?

Either way, Silver has no problem providing that now. In a way, perhaps it is part of his duties here, to connect with his captain in any way he can to temper him. Heh. If only that’s the only reason he has for wanting this.

“Do you?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turning upward in a smirk. He does like to tease, always has.

“ _Christ_ ,” Flint groans, his desperation all the more obvious, “ _yes_.”

“Good. Then I want to hear you, captain,” Silver says, leaning forward as his hand slows. His continued use of the title amuses him, considering their current role reversal, but there's an affection in the way he says it, one he will not question.

And with that, he does what he’s been wanting to, drawing his tongue over the tip of Flint's cock, tasting salt and precome there.

The moan Flint lets out is just what Silver is looking for, all desperate and wanting. Still quiet, yes, but Silver will not begrudge him that, not on a ship full of people. He feels sure most of the men wouldn't give a fuck, but he understands Flint's need for secrecy, given what he'd been through.

Flint’s hand moves now, coming to rest in Silver’s hair, fingers sliding through the dark curls. Flint touches him here like he’s been wanting to for weeks, such tender affection to it that Silver has to turn his head into the touch.

And as he can do more than that to show his appreciation, with a hum of his own Silver sucks Flint's cock into his mouth. He doesn't try to take it all, instead wrapping his hand around the base and stroking where his mouth can't reach.

He is not an expert at this, having only done it a handful of times before, but this time feels different. There is something between them, unlike the others Silver had done this to. Not to mention that Flint tastes so fucking good, warm and salty sweet beneath his tongue.

It doesn't take long, not really, before Silver has Flint right on the edge as he works him over with his mouth, sucking and licking, head bobbing up and down. He manages to avoid scraping with his teeth, too, except for a couple of times, but the _noise_ Flint makes when he does it indicates something far different than a lack of enjoyment.

It's that, just a slight but deliberate scrape of Silver's teeth over the tip of Flint's cock that sends his captain plunging into his orgasm with a soft moan of “John.”

Silver feels something go through him at the sound of his given name, spoken with such reverence, along with Flint's hand suddenly twisting in his hair as the captain came hard into his quartermaster's mouth. Flint clings onto him like an anchor in a storm as Silver sucks and strokes him through it, swallowing every drop he can manage.

When it's over, when they are both strung out and sated, Silver lets Flint's softening cock slip past his lips before he leans back. He adjusts his position slightly, his leg along with it, and then gazes up at Flint, who is watching him, too.

Flint still has a hand in his hair, and he still looks vulnerable, but also satisfied. There is something else there, though, some need that Silver cannot quite place. He suddenly feels compelled to reach for Flint, to close the distance between them, wanting to kiss him again, to--

“ _Sail!_ ” The cry of the watchman and the clanging of bells from on deck shatters everything then.

Flint turns, hand slipping from Silver's hair, walking across the room to where he keeps his water. He tucks himself away and does up his breeches as he goes.

After splashing water on his face and drying off, he moves back around to look at Silver. Any trace of the come that had been drying on his skin is gone now, along with that beautiful openness. Something like a knife twists in Silver at the thought of Flint denying himself what is right in front of him, even as he understands the reasons for it, as he ought to be trying to do, too.

“Mr. Silver,” Flint says, no trace of the man he'd been moments ago in his voice. The respect he has for Silver is there, though, like it’s been since the shark hunt, but that's all. In just those two words, Silver understands Flint's unspoken request that they never speak of this, that it won't happen again.

He swallows, shifting to pull his trousers back up. “Captain,” he says, the same he always had before this. It's a simple return of that promise. _It was a mistake, I'm sorry, this won't happen again._ Probably for the best, anyway, he thinks as they exchange a nod and Flint leaves the cabin.

Silver emerges not long after, having arranged himself to face the men and the ship that, as it turns out, is one of theirs anyway.

He tries to forget about what happened, as he is sure Flint does, but things have shifted now and there really is no denying it. The looks they share are different, they linger, there is a want thrumming under John's skin and Flint seems to dance around him more than he had before.

It’s just one week later that their unspoken agreement is broken. Alone in the hold, Flint undoes Silver's breeches as he makes him sit on one of the wooden chests before dropping to his knees, finally taking his quartermaster's cock into his mouth. As pleasure shoots through him, overtaking rational thought, Silver finds himself surprised either of them lasted as long they did.

And, with Flint moaning beautifully around him, talented tongue sliding over his cock, Silver finds he feels better than he has in months. For now, that makes this worth it. Later when he sees Flint's eyes light up, the lightness in his step, and the way he laughs just a little more when they're alone, that makes it worth it, too. For now.

He'll deal with the rest when and if it happens. After all, he is used to wanting and having things he shouldn’t now.

_Fin._


End file.
